Ben Harrison saw a sturdy blond youth in his late teens, naked but for boots and belt of a somehow ominous shade of green, enter the high-school classroom through a side door that opened from the street, heard the newcomer rap on a table for attention. A half-dozen naked, teenaged boys, Ben among them, fell silent. After having been Selected at school that morning, they had been shunted to this room by the medical inspector.
"Of all the ways t' git Harvested," said the blond stranger, who was sporting an impressive erection, "being put on this fertilizer run is th' most disrespectful thing we can do t' you. To make up for that, we aim t' make th' trip t' th' processing machine a cut better'n what'll happen t' the rest of your schoolmates who're getting Harvested t'day."
"Yeah?" Ben was still trying to adjust to having his name drawn in the Lottery -- and then, in spite of his splendid, muscular physique, which should have sent him to the auction block, eventually to be sold for a goodly price, roasted whole, and then served at someone's festive dinner -- or at least sent through the meat-processing plant up north to be cut up into steaks and roasts and so on, he was going to be ground up as fertilizer, along with --
"O' course, what they didn't tell ya is that most of you studlings on this here fertilizer run just happen t' be running a fever, or else showed up as bad on th' blood test like you would if you'd actually been takin' some funny chemicals. But rather'n risk spreadin' whatever you might be carrying t' whoever might be eating you -- anyway, let's go." He opened the outside door again and waved Ben and his schoolmates through it. "I'm Zeke. Rudy'll give ya shots when ya board."
Outside waited a small bus painted the same ominous green. Another well-built, hard-cocked young man, also wearing nothing but green boots and belt, stopped Ben just inside the bus.
"You're -- Rudy?" Ben asked.
"Yup." With his left hand, Rudy grabbed Ben's cock and pulled it taut. "Why we hafta use a new needle for each of you studlings is beyond me." With his right hand, Rudy slid the needle of a hypodermic syringe into the hilt of Ben's cock. "But rules are rules," he added as he emptied the syringe into Ben.
Ben felt a sharp tingle spread into the base of his shaft. "And this is to. . . ?"
"It'll give you a good, solid hard-on. Partly it's so you can't run away -- bein' naked and erected makes you pretty easy to spot, but the big reason is so you boys can have a bit o' fun while we're gettin' where we're goin', rather'n givin' me and Zeke a hard time on the way." He pulled out the needle, put the syringe aside, and waved Ben farther into the bus. As Ben strode on past, Rudy picked up another hypodermic and reached for the next youth in line.
Inside, Ben saw a wide, padded bench that ran the length of the bus on one side of the aisle, and ordinary seating on the other. Ben found a seat beside a stiff- pronged teenager as well-built as Ben himself. As he sat down, Ben felt the tingle fade into a warm glow while his own prong stiffened.
"Hi -- I'm Terry," said Ben's seatmate. "What'd they get you for?"
"Running a fever, I think." Ben sneezed, then shook Terry's hand, then asked, "Colds always do that to me. You?"
"Been taking a kind of steroid that's not s'posed to show up on tests -- only it did. It gave me a nice build, though." Terry patted the layer of muscle that crossed his chest and tensed his abs into a hard ripple while he studied Ben's naked physique for a moment
Ben realized he was automatically expanding his own chest and tensing the muscles of his arms and torso. "Nope -- no steroids. Just -- just lucky, I suppose. At least, until this morning."
"Lucky then too," said Terry. "If ya gotta go, this sure beats the way they haul you to the meat-processing plant."
"Well, there is that. Where are you --"
"Listen up, everybody," Zeke said, quieting the bus- load of naked teenagers. "This is th' second time hearing this spiel for the studs we picked up earlier, but hear me out, anyhow.
"Unlike th' rest of th' harvest, you kids didn't get dosed with stuff t' clean out your insides; but in case ya gotta go anyway, there's a toilet in th' back of th' bus. And unlike th' rest of th' harvest, we're gonna feed you on th' way. Regular food, that is. What you suck outa each other's prongs is strictly up to you -- and from the looks of some of those prongs, it oughta be plenty."
"What about you and Rudy?" called Mikey, a freckle- faced red-head from Ben's algebra class.
"Well," said Zeke, "We both got th' proper drivers' licenses, so --"
"-- we can take turns," said Rudy, "drivin' the bus and bein' -- available."
Before he could stop himself, Ben asked, "Just feeding us, or do you studs -- ?"
"We like suckin' good, hard prongs as much as we like gettin' our own prongs sucked," said Rudy. "Zeke'll drive the next leg of the trip, so --" Rudy walked down the aisle, while Zeke sat down in the driver's seat, started the engine, and steered the bus away from the curb and into traffic. "Who was askin' -- ah, there you are. Want me to do you on the bench?"
In a moment, Ben was lying on the bench, comfortably aware of cool leather against his bare back. With his shoulders propped up, Ben watched Rudy stretch himself out on Ben's legs. He saw Rudy lick his lips, then lower his head onto Ben's waiting prong.
As Ben watched his prong disappear into Rudy's mouth, he felt suction -- hungry suction -- take hold. In less than a dozen strokes, Ben felt pressure build in the roots of his prong. "Wait -- lemme cool down -- wait," he gasped, but Rudy kept on sucking. Ben tried to hold back, tried harder -- then came with a long, long squirt. He felt Rudy suck -- swallow -- suck -- swallow again as Ben pumped out more sperm and semen.
"You must of saved up for a week," said Rudy. He sat up and licked his lips.
"I did not," said Ben, then felt his face go warm with embarrassment.
"You blush nice," said Terry, and Ben felt his face go even warmer.
"Anyway, you see how you're just as hard as when I started a-workin' on you?" asked Rudy.
"Well -- yeah."
"So if somebody else were to go after your prong right now . . ." Rudy said as he stepped into the aisle.
"Like me, for instance?" said Terry, as he mounted the bench, settled his muscular body onto Ben's legs, and closed his mouth onto Ben's prong.
Ben watched Terry suck for a moment, then realized that Rudy now stood right by Ben's head, and that Rudy's prong was close enough for Ben to lick it -- so he did. Rudy edged closer. Ben opened his mouth wide, and after the next lick, Rudy's glans followed Ben's tongue into his mouth. Ben tightened his lips on the warm, hard shaft and sucked; he felt Rudy's glans swell in response -- and all the while, he was watching Terry's head bobbing over Ben's shaft and feeling Terry's hungry suction take hold.
If anything, Ben decided, Rudy's responding faster than I did when he was sucking me off. Ben sucked harder; Rudy thrust himself in deep, then delivered a mouthful of slippery cream. Ben swallowed, sucked for more, then swallowed the next shot, and the next. Seconds later, he felt his own prong pump one squirt of his juices into Terry's mouth. Terry half-choked, then swallowed, sucked for a few strokes more, then released Ben's prong and sat up.
Ben sat up too and glanced around the bus. Some teenagers had moved to the bench or stretched themselves out in the aisle to suck each other off. Others simply bent over the teenager sitting alongside and took him there. A few were bringing themselves to climax by hand, but -- as Ben watched -- one by one they shifted to sucking or being sucked.
Karl, a short, wiry classmate of Ben's with a really magnificent erection -- wandered within reach. Ben put his right hand on Karl's butt and pulled him closer. "Have you --?"
"Twice so far," said Karl.
"Yeah -- I can see your prong's still wet. Can I try for a third?"
"Sure." Ben leaned forward, sucked as much of Karl's prong as would fit into his mouth, wrapped his left hand around the rest to keep Karl from going in too deep, and began to suck. This time, Ben sucked for long enough to get himself aroused again before Karl climaxed and fed Ben a squirt of his ball-cream.
The oral orgy gradually slowed. Ben and Terry went back to their seats. Most of the youths chatted quietly with those around them; a few stared out the windows at the passing scenery. Now and again, a couple would pair off for a leisurely suck on the bench or at their seats.
Ben saw Rudy ambling down the aisle, stopped him with a gesture, and asked, "Is there something in those shots you gave us so we can -- you know -- shoot more as well as make us stay hard?"
Rudy grinned, then asked, "Well, what do you think?"
"I -- I just don't know for sure, but it sure feels like I'm coming more often than I ever did before."
"I'm not sayin', one way or the other. But if they really had invented something like that . . ."
"Yeah -- I can see where they'd want to keep it a secret. Otherwise . . ." Ben studied Rudy's rigid shaft for a moment. "Did you and Zeke . . . ?"
"Sure did. Take more'n watchin' you horny studlings go at it to keep us up and hard for this long."
"Ready to feed me another quick one?"
"Sure am." Rudy moved closer and steadied his prong while Ben closed his lips on it.
Ben sucked, sucked harder. Rudy's glans swelled in response. But as Ben started bobbing his head, he felt the bus swerve and heard Zeke call out: "Lunch break."
Rudy eased himself back; Ben reluctantly let him go. The bus swerved again, rolled to a stop. Rudy trotted to the front of the bus; Ben saw Zeke get to his feet as the door of the bus opened.
"C'mon, kids," Zeke called. "Chow time."
Chaz, another teenager who had been selected from Ben's school, said, "But we're still . . ."
"Not to worry, kid; they've seen naked studs before."
"Well, if you say so, then . . ." Chaz hesitated, then followed two other teens out the door.
And one by one, the rest of the Harvested teens stepped out the door -- some hesitantly, others almost eagerly -- and followed Zeke. Ben felt both emotions: he was hungry, but he wasn't comfortable being naked and showing a hard- on out in to open like this. He strode past a parked police car of the same ominous green as the bus, then entered a fast-food restaurant, but one by the look of its decor not part of a franchise. A few of the patrons hurriedly finished their meals and left; a few stared openly at the pack of naked, hard-cocked teenagers; but most pretended to ignore them -- at least Ben suspected they were pretending.
"Grab a tray and get in line," Zeke directed. "I called ahead on th' cell, so they're ready for us. Two hot dogs, extra fries, and whatever soft drink ya like. No, go ahead -- Rudy and me, we go through the line last."
And once in line, Ben felt less conspicuous. He accidentally poked his stiff prong against Chaz's butt, stepped back, and felt a prong nudge his own butt. Ben glanced back; Terry stood right behind. They grinned at each other; Ben licked his lips, so did Terry; and both broke into laughter.
A call of "Next," brought Ben's attention back to food. The youth on the other side of the counter was perhaps a year older than Ben, chunky-muscled and -- Ben suddenly realized -- buck naked.
Ben held out his tray; the youth handed out hot dogs and fries. Ben moved a pace to one side; then, as the youth served Terry's tray, Ben asked, "How come you're . . . ?"
"Naked?" The youth licked his lips. "It's -- we asked the owner and she said we could. We strip down every time there's a busload of -- of you coming through. It's just that -- you know -- we want to make you dudes feel -- you know -- feel more comfortable while your here, what with you being naked and up hard and everything."
"Yeah? I -- we appreciate that; we all do. And -- you look good, stripped."
"I'm trying to keep my prong stiff too, but --"
Terry said, "We got an unfair advantage."
"Oh?" The youth started serving Karl, the next in line, who explained, "We got hard-on shots on the way here."
Ben followed Chaz to another naked youth who was dispensing soft-drinks, then on to a table. Terry, Karl, and then red-haired Mikey joined Ben and Chaz there. The hot dogs, Ben discovered, were long and thick: "Almost as thick as your prong, Terry."
"But not as thick as mine," said Karl.
"Or even mine," said Mikey, around a mouthful of hot dog. "But yours is the real prize."
"Is it ever," said Ben. "Karl, you're a real a mouthful. I wonder if you'd taste better with ketchup?"
As Ben finished his second hot dog he heard, "Hey, Mister, can I ask you a question?"
Ben turned and saw a boy flanked by a couple of slightly older boys in their early teens, all in T-shirts and jeans. A grown man stood protectfully close behind them. The youngest boy glanced back at the adult for reassurance, then turned to Ben again.
"Go ahead -- ask. I don't promise that I know the answer."
"Are you really going to be ground up into fer-fer--"
"Fertilizer?"
"That's the word."
"I'm afraid so." Ben ran his hand across his chest, conscious of the hard muscle there. "That's where I'm -- that's where all of us are headed." He gestured at Terry, Karl, and Chaz, then at the rest of the naked teenagers in the room.
"Harry says," the boy nodded at one of the older boys with him, "that if I don't study harder, I might get made into fer-- into fertilizer too. And Randy says that I gotta exercise too -- but if I get muscles like yours, then . . ."
"Not exactly." For a moment, Ben fumbled for an answer, then said, "Studying hard and being smart means your dad's not gonna sell you for meat rather'n send you to college. And having big, strong muscles doesn't mean you'll get ground up into fertilizer like us -- or even get eaten. It's -- it's real complicated. But having strong muscles is fun, and having them won't really make you any more likely to get made into fertilizer, or even get cooked and eaten."
Karl said, "So you see, Randy and Harry are both right."
"Anything else?" Ben asked.
"Just let me . . ." The youngest boy stepped closer; Ben held himself motionless. The boy reached out, touched Ben's glans, bent Ben's prong from side to side, then did the same with Karl's. "Did he -- you know -- exercise himself down there more than you did? Harry says --"
Ben shook his head, trying not to laugh. "That -- that kind of exercise doesn't make it grow any bigger -- or any smaller, either. But -- but if you spend too much time doing -- doing that, you won't have time to study hard and build up your muscles."
"Thanks, Mister." The boy scampered away, followed by the two that were with him. The adult who had been standing behind the boys stepped closer to Ben, held out his hand, and said, "Shake, lad. That was well said; and maybe, just maybe, coming from you, it might sink in. But kids that age . . ."
Ben took the man's hand. "I didn't quite know what to say."
"You did fine, laddie; you did fine." They shook hands; the adult nodded to Karl, then followed his boys.
As he left, three solidly built young men in their late teens marched into the restaurant -- "swaggered in" would be a better way to say it, Ben told himself. One of the newcomers looked around the room, then yelled, "Who the fuck let long-pigs eat in here?"
Another of the three snarled, "These aren't fucking long-pigs, Huck; they're just fertilizer on the hoof -- didn't you see that fucking green bus of theirs outside?"
Ben and his companions stirred uneasily. The naked, chunky-muscled youth who had been handing out hot dogs and was now picking up empty trays said, "Oh, brother; the Hatfield brothers are at it again."
Two men that Ben hadn't noticed before stood up in the far corner of the room. They wore uniforms -- police uniforms, green police uniforms, of the same green as the bus, the police car outside, and Rudy's and blond Zeke's belts and boots.
"Where the fuck's the bitch that runs this hole?" demanded Huck, the first of the solidly built trio. Our dad --" He stopped as the green-clad policemen approached.
Ben saw a stout, motherly looking woman bustle out of the serving area with another naked youth -- the one who had been dispensing drinks -- right behind her.
One of the policemen turned to the woman and said, "I'm Officer Smythe of the Selection and Harvesting Patrol."
"So glad you're here; I'm Miz Whitby."
"The manager?" asked the other policeman.
"I own the place." She glared at the Hatfields. "These young hoods --"
"Like I was gonna say," snarled Huck Hatfield, "our dad --"
"Who your dad is and what he has to say don't cut no ice with us," said Officer Smythe, pulling a cell phone from his belt and snapping it open. "Have these young men been giving you a hard time before?"
"Have they ever," she said. "Just last week --"
To Ben, Karl, and Mikey, Terry said, "Officer Smythe is my brother Ted. He's not supposed to be looking after me now, but -- you know."
"I'm glad he's here," said Ben. "I mean, we outnumber those hoods, but we're -- you know --"
"I know," said Chaz; Karl nodded.
"How about him?" asked Smythe, pointing at the third Hatfield brother.
"Didn't say a word," said Miz Whitby; the drink- dispenser nodded agreement.
"Well then," said Smythe. He spoke into his phone, passed it to his partner, then to Miz Whitby and her naked assistants, all of whom spoke briefly. Finally he listened to the phone himself. "The hearing officer says that, based on the testimony of three witnesses and my and my partner's own observations, you two --"
"What about me?" asked the third Hatfield.
"And you are?"
"Stefan Hatfield. Don't I get to say anything?"
"Well?"
"They're not -- they're not really bad, but Dad keeps encouraging them, and --"
Smythe listened to the phone for a moment, then said, "Your dad encouraged you too, Stefan; but you didn't join in what your brothers Huck and Jason were doing."
"Which was?"
"Interfering with the Harvest. Jason and Huck, the hearing officer finds you two guilty, and in view of your prior records, he has just sentenced you to Immediate Selection. Strip: you're just meat now, and we're putting you on the fertilizer run with the rest of these kids."
"But --" all three brothers growled.
"As for you," Smythe said, pointing at Stefan Hatfield, "You're getting off with a warning."
"Th' Hell with that -- if they go, I go too. Otherwise, Dad'll blame me, and I've had enough of that." Stefan started ripping off his clothes. "Come on, you two; let's show these kids we've got as much guts as they do. What's more, this is our chance to show we've got more guts than Dad does -- right?"
Huck and Jason looked at each other, then began stripping themselves naked too. Ben saw the Hatfield youths come out of their clothes with beefy, big-boned physiques, rather than the well-defined musculature of most of the Selected teenagers from the bus.
Zeke and Rudy joined the group, first to shake the two policemen's hands, then to introduce themselves to the Hatfields Ben heard snatches of conversation: "-- nice arms, too --" "-- hard-on shots when we --" "-- pity they aren't --" "-- pick the one with the best body, and then --" "-- but the rules say --" "-- yes, but since Stefan volunteered --" "-- call ahead so they can prepare for --" Finally, Zeke raised his voice: "Okay, kids; back in the bus, 'long with our three new passengers."
Ben and the rest of the naked, hard-cocked teens stood up and headed for the door to the parking lot. Terry stepped to one side; Ben saw him get a pat on the butt from his brother Ted Smythe as they exchanged a few quick words.
At the door, the naked, chunky-muscled youth was handing out candy bars. "Compliments of the house," he explained.
"Nice boner you got there," said Ben.
"I got to thinking what -- you know -- what'd it be like, riding on the bus with all you dudes, and that brought it right on up."
"Yeah -- well, just don't go thinking yourself into volunteering, like Stefan Hatfield just did." He snapped a finger against the chunky-muscled youth's rigid prong and trotted on past.
As Ben followed the Hatfields onto the bus, he heard Zeke laying down the rules: "I really don't give a damn about anything your Dad ever said: On this bus, it's okay to fuck, but you're gonna get fucked too. You got that? Now --"
"What about protection -- rubbers?" protested Huck Hatfield. "If we're gonna get fucked, then --"
Ben surprised himself by saying, "Where you're going -- where we're all going, that isn't gonna make much difference, is it?"
"Okay, okay," said Stefan. "Enough already. Where do I get fucked?"
Zeke patted the bench; Stefan stretched himself out on his back. The other two exchanged glances, shrugged their shoulders, and laid themselves down on the bench too. Zeke held up a bottle of lubricant, squirted a dollop on his shaft, passed the bottle to Terry, mounted Stefan Hatfield, and slid himself into the squirming youth.
Terry lubricated himself, handed the bottle to Karl, and climbed onto Huck. Jason yelped as Karl impaled him, then growled, "You may be little everywhere else, but you're real fucking big where it counts."
Other naked teenagers settled down to fuck on the bench, the floor, or standing in the aisle. Ben took the bottle, greased himself up, and passed the bottle on. When Zeke reached his own climax and pulled out, Ben climbed onto Stefan -- the Hatfield who had volunteered -- and eased himself on in.
"You are good," said Ben, "Good and tight." He pulled back, slid in deep again. "My name's Ben. You're Stefan?"
"Yeah, and I oughta be good and tight. That bus driver's the first stud who's ever fucked me." He squirmed up against Ben's next thrust. "Y' know, a guy could get to like getting fucked the way you're doing it -- you're hitting me -- just right -- inside -- yeah!"
"Soon's I come -- I'm going to -- let you -- fuck me," Ben panted. "I didn't think -- I'd come this soon -- after this morning, but -- yeah!" He thrust, thrust again, felt his muscles tighten, felt his deeply-buried prong shoot one long spurt into Stefan's guts. Ben relaxed for a moment, then sat up, pulled himself out of Stefan, and called out "Who's got the lube?"
Someone slapped the bottle into his hand. Ben squirted some on Stefan's quivering shaft, held out the bottle for someone else to take, then carefully knelt astride Stefan's hips, impaling himself on Stefan's prong.
"Take it real fucking slow," Stefan said. "I'm almost -- almost -- there!"
Ben saw Stefan's muscles tighten, felt him thrust upward -- go rigid -- then jet his load up into Ben's body. After a few moments, Ben climbed off; someone else -- Jon, a lightly built teen from Ben's school -- climbed on and started fucking Stefan. Ben settled back in his seat; after a moment, Terry sat down beside him.
"How's it going?" Ben asked.
"After I fucked the Hatfield stud, I let Karl fuck me. That kid really goes in deep!"
"I gotta try him out, then."
"Make it a three-way?" asked Terry. "He promised to let me fuck him as soon as he finishes fucking whoever he's with now."
And a few miles later, a spot opened up on the bench. Ben lay down on his back and spread his thighs; Karl mounted and eased his prize prong ball-deep into Ben -- a deliciously tight fit he was, too. Terry climbed aboard and slid himself into Karl's butt; his weight pushed Karl even deeper into Ben.
"Everybody ready?" asked Ben. "Let's go!"
This was the longest and most satisfying fuck of all -- they went on and on, and on some more, their erections never softening, slipping in and out of synch as they pumped and humped, stopping to catch their breath and then going at it again. They thrust and pulled and thrust again, until all three -- even Ben -- went into muscle-tightening, semen- spurting climax.
"Like, wow," Ben panted. I haven't managed to come, hands-off, since I was thirteen. But then, I've never been spitted on a spike like yours, Karl."
"And I've never been sandwiched between a pair of muscle-studs like you two either. Wanta just lie here for a spell, or does somebody else . . ."
"I think they're all pretty well fucked out -- or sucked out by now," Terry said.
"And I'm kinda squashed; you two studs are heavy," said Ben. "So --"
"We have to get up anyway," said Terry. "We're getting somewhere."
Ben felt the bus swerve, heard Rudy shift gears down, and then down again. Terry climbed off Karl, Karl pulled his still-rigid shaft out of Ben, and Ben sat up and looked out the window. "Yeah, we there -- see that green thing over there? That must be the thing that'll -- you know -- process us."
"All but me," said Stefan, as he finished fucking Jon, uncoupled, and stood up. "Since -- as far as anybody can tell -- I'm not -- you know -- like you guys --"
"Careful, there," growled Karl.
"You know what I mean," said Stefan. "Anyway, they're planning to gut me, and then roast me for supper -- the guys working the chopper and the plows and everything. So don't think I'm getting off easy, but --"
"Everybody out," called Rudy as he stepped out of the bus. "Stefan, you stick with me. Rest of you studs --"
Another young man, naked but for green sandals, belt, and a billed hat, approached. "Bit of a hold-up. Changing the chopper's speed control. Any you guys ever work on a G- 95 diesel?"
"I did," said Karl, stepping into the aisle. "All last summer."
"Okay -- give us a hand. Just got a kit in to fix a problem we've been having. Rest of you guys, take it easy till the chopper's ready to take you."
Ben stopped a few feet from the bus and took in his surroundings. Flat farmland stretched to the horizon in all directions. Nearby, a yellow tractor stood in front of and hooked to a low steel platform slung between four rubber- tired wheels. A chest-high hopper and the diesel engine that evidently powered the hopper's grinding machine stood on the platform. A short ladder led to a second platform that surrounded the top of the hopper. Shiny paint of that all- too-familiar shade of green covered the whole assembly.
Ben was sure he and the other Harvested teenagers would soon be climbing into that hopper, there to be chopped into fresh fertilizer. In spite of the warm, early afternoon son, a chill ran up his spine and he shivered.
Behind that machine waited a second yellow tractor, this one hooked to a multi-disk plow. In front of the first tractor, the ground bristled with cornstalk stubble; behind the plow, the ground looked freshly turned. The bus that had delivered Ben and the other teenagers stood on a dirt road that ran through the farmland. A few yards beyond the bus and off to one side stood a small van of the same green as the bus itself.
Several men, most in their teens, all naked but for muddy boots and broad straw hats, lounged around the equipment. One, a sturdy, hard-cocked blond teenager, strolled over to Ben and his companions. "I'm Eddie -- Eddie Lonnigan. My dad and our neighbor Patterson, along with his sons and me and my brothers -- we know what y'all are going through for us, and we're right grateful. And we're all naked and boned up like this --" He touched his stiff prong. "-- so y'all won't feel like we're better'n you or stuff like that.
"Anyway, deal's this: once the mechanics get the chopper going, you guys'll climb in, one at a time, and it'll do its thing. What's left of you after you've gone through the chopper gets spread out, and then the plow turns the dirt over on top of that.
"But while we're all waiting for the chopper to get fixed up -- see those boxes over there?" Eddie pointed. "Soft drinks. Help yourselves. And -- in case you want to do some more fucking, the ground's softer where we just plowed it."
Ben looked down. His own shaft was still rigid, and inside . . . He looked up, saw Eddie approach. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Want to fuck a corn-fed farm boy?"
"Fuck yes. But I'd rather get fucked by a corn-fed farm boy. But won't your dad . . ."
"He and Patterson kinda wore themselves out on the first bus-load today. But me and the other youngsters . . ."
Ben saw that other teenaged farmers in muddy boots and straw hats were mixing with the Harvested high-school students from the bus. Couples formed, stretched out on the plowed ground, and started to fuck. Others just lay down to snooze in the afternoon sun. Eddie pulled a condom from a packet of them in his hat, then hesitated.
"Put it on," said Ben as they ambled toward plowed ground. "I'm still -- you know -- ready, but not as ready as you are."
"Fine by me," said Eddie, easing his prong into the condom. "So --"
"Face to face, so we can talk. By the way, I'm Ben." He lay back, spread his thighs, relaxed, and felt Eddie's prong slide in deep. As the blond farm boy began to fuck, slow and easy, Ben asked, "Does plowing chopped-up guys into the ground really help the crops?"
"Depends on the crop," said Eddie. "Depends on what else we've put into the ground." He fucked silently for a moment. "I'd think you'd hate to talk about things like that, but the other guys I've met this way --"
"Met -- or fucked?"
Eddie laughed. "Ben, you're one of the best -- nice and tight; lots of good, hard muscle; and you're meeting every stroke of mine with a little wiggle of your own like you're enjoying getting fucked --"
"I am, I am; can't you tell?" Ben tightened his legs around the sturdy blond's waist.
"I kinda guessed." Eddie gradually speeded his stroke. "This is such a good ride -- I wish I could take you home with me."
"That makes two of us."
"Yeah -- I know. But -- I can't stop -- and here -- the fuck -- I -- go." Eddie went rigid, prong rammed ball-deep in Ben's ass, then he slowly, slowly relaxed. "That was a good one."
"For me too." They lay locked together for a few moments while they caught up on their breathing.
Eventually, Eddie eased his prong out, and Ben then stood up when Eddie did. The sturdy blond peeled off his condom, tossed it away. He reached for his semen-slick prong, but Ben said, "Let me." He dropped to his knees, steadied himself by putting his hands on Eddie's hips, and licked Eddie's prong clean.
"One more," Eddie sighed, and Ben took the throbbing shaft ball-deep and sucked -- hard. Eddie responded with a spurt of ball-cream and a long, drawn out, "Wow!"
"Thanks," said Ben, looking up at Eddie's face. "That was -- that was a `wow' for me too."
"Hey," said another naked, straw-hatted farm boy, "We got visitors."
"Important visitors," said Eddie, as Ben scrambled to his feet. "That might even be --"
Ben saw an all-terrain vehicle had pulled up on the road alongside the chopping machine.
Terry, now standing beside Ben, said, "Yeah -- it is: old man Wiggins himself, the top man in the Selection Administration --"
"-- and his twin body-guards," said Eddie.
Ben saw a big, thick-shouldered, grey-haired man step lightly from the vehicle and stride towards the chopper; a pair of men just as solidly built but several decades younger followed the grey-haired man. All wore coats and ties, but their coats were of the same ominous green that marked the equipment and men involved in the Selection and Harvesting process.
Ben and the other Harvested teenagers drifted closer. He saw the man who had asked Karl to join him at the chopper was greeting Wiggins. They conferred briefly. A moment later, Ben heard the chopper's motor start up, then settle into a quiet rumble. Two young men, naked but for green belts, sandals, and billed caps mounted the lagger to stand on the top platform, on either side of the hopper's mouth.
Mr. Wiggins climbed onto the chopper's lower platform, turned to the circle of naked teenagers, and said, "You are the lucky ones who get to try out a brand new modification to our standard chopper -- if `lucky' is the right word for what it'll do to you."
Ben grinned; he heard a chuckle run through the other teenagers.
"You know how a wood-chipper slows down when someone tosses in a log -- and then speeds up again? Well, the same thing happens when you step into one of our choppers. One of our mechanics has designed a link between the engine's speed control and the trap door that drops you into the rotors. If the link works the way it's supposed to, the engine will speed up just before your feet hit the rotors that chop you to bits. Now, Fred Sanderburg here -- he nodded at the naked man with Karl -- tells me that he needs to put a couple of you through the chopper to check it out before it processes the rest of you.
"First -- who's the lightest one here?"
The waiting teenagers glanced at each other. Ben heard someone call out, "I am." He saw Jon raise his hand, saw the lightly built teenager step to the front of the group.
Mr. Wiggins gestured; Jon mounted the lower platform, squeezed past Mr. Wiggins, and climbed the ladder to the top of the machine's chest-high hopper.
"See that trap door?" asked one of the two young men standing on the top platform. "Stand there -- that's it. Ready?"
Jon nodded. The engine growled louder. Jon yelped as he sank, feet-first, into the hopper. A spray of wet, red bits of what had been a live teenager erupted from the back end of the chopper.
"Now -- who's the heaviest one here?"
Ben and Terry both started to step forward. Suddenly, Ben put his right hand on Terry's left shoulder, pulled him to a stop, and then pointed at Mr. Wiggins. "You are, sir," he said, somehow managing to make his voice steady.
Dead silence fell, but for the quiet hum of the engine. No one spoke, no one moved. Ben swallowed; his mouth was suddenly dry.
"Y' know," said Mr. Wiggins, breaking the suspense, "you're one of the few people who can get away with saying that, and there's nothing that I can possibly do -- you know what I mean. Anyway, I really put my foot in it -- both feet, really." As the crowd watched, stunned, the Selection Administrator shucked off coat, tie, and shirt, dropped his trousers, and kicked off his shoes. A moment later, he was naked. Then couple of strokes of his fist, gripping his stiffening prong, brought himself to full erection.
Ben realized that someone else was stripping -- two someones -- the Administrator's twin body-guards. He saw Mr. Wiggins -- now half-way up the ladder -- look down, heard him say, "Wait -- you don't have to --"
"If you go, we go," said one, firmly. Now naked, he mounted the chopper's lower platform.
"Besides, if this thing can handle the three of us, it can handle anybody," said the other twin, following his brother onto that platform.
"Let's get this rig moving!" Sanderburg yelled. A roar from the lead tractor answered him, and both tractor and chopper lurched into motion, with one of the farm boys steering the tractor. Another roar, and the tractor towing the multi-disk plow started moving too, this one with an older man driving.
"Now?" asked Mr. Wiggins, as he reached the platform on top of the hopper.
"Wait -- wait -- now!" Sanderburg replied, and the naked Administrator sank into the hopper, to emerge as an even bigger spray of chopped flesh and bone.
Ben hurried to catch up with the chopper, then strode alongside it at a comfortable walking pace. The first powerfully muscled bodyguard was eaten alive by the rotors, then his twin brother. Huck and Jason Hatfield insisted on being the next to climb aboard the ominous green machine and feed their naked, hard-cocked bodies to the rotors, followed -- one by one -- by the busload of Harvested teenagers. The rotors devoured them -- one by one -- then spat them out as chips of bloody meat and bone.
A couple of the farm boys -- Eddie and another sturdy blond youth -- walked alongside the chopper, waving one teenager after another onto the machine's steps.
Ben found himself walking beside Karl, who was sitting beside the diesel engine on the chopper's lower platform. "You really lucked out, guy," Ben said.
"Well, sort of," the wiry teenager said. "This job's just until the regular mechanic gets back from vacation. I don't get chopped up until then, but I'll miss being with you guys when I do."
"You just want to fuck my hot bod again," Ben said. He gave Karl's impressive prong a squeeze.
"True, true." Karl licked his lips and grinned.
"What I still don't understand," said Ben, "is how come the Hatfield boys went so easily. You'd almost think they wanted to get tossed on the bus and then --" He gestured wordlessly at the hopper.
"Probably did -- it was a chance to get away from dear old Dad, and --"
"-- they took it." Ben swung himself onto the ladder, following Chaz. He glanced back; Terry was close behind.
And then Ben -- suddenly uneasy -- was standing right behind Chaz, and Chaz was standing on the metal trapdoor -- and a moment later, Chaz was sinking feet-first into the hopper. Ben watched the naked teenager squirm as the hungry rotors ate him -- watched the trapdoor snap shut as Chaz's head sank into the rotors.
Now it was Ben's turn to stand on the trap-door -- but one of the young men who stood beside that fatal door was taking off his belt, wrapping it around Ben's waist, putting his billed cap on Ben's head, stepping out of his sandals.
"You take over," said the young man. "It's easy -- just tell 'em where t' stand. Toss 'em in head first if they want to get it over with quick." He stepped onto the trap door and folded his arms across his broad chest. As Ben looked down, the door opened, the engine sped up, and the rotors ate the young man's feet, then his legs. Ben heard the engine slow as he watched the rotors bite into the young man's thighs, slow further when they took his hips, then speed up as the rotors sucked out the squirming young man's guts, chopped up his torso, still-folded arms, and finally his head.
The other young man standing atop the chopper put his green belt around Terry's waist, saying, "You two look like you can handle anybody who tries to give you a hard time." The young man put his green cap on Terry's head, then stepped out of his sandals and onto the trap door himself.
"Wait -- I got a question," said Terry.
Ben asked "Yeah: how long do we -- ?"
"Long as you like. Then grab a couple of muscle-boys, and -- Hey! This doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would!" he yelped as the rotors took him.
Red-haired Mikey climbed to the top of the chopper next. "Ben, I'm scared."
"Everybody is; we're just pretending that we're not." Ben pointed. "Stand there. When the chopper's ready, it'll pop open."
"Far as we can tell," said Terry, "the rotors will chop you up so fast you'll be gone before you feel it eating you."
"Eating me? Now you've scared me even more than -- Yow! Here I go!" Mikey crowed as he sank feet-first into the hopper. Ben saw a surprised grin on Mikey's freckled face when the rotors ate his balls and still-stiff prong, then a quick thumbs-up as they began gutting him.
And a moment later, another naked, stiff-pronged teenager was climbing the steps to the top of the ominous green hopper, asking, "Where do I stand?" -- and another -- and another. A few, like Mikey, admitted being scared; most went stoically to their doom with a final yelp and a squirm as the rotors ate them alive.
When the chopper finished devouring the rest of that batch of teenagers, the drivers braked the tractors to a halt and Karl shut down the chopper's diesel engine. Just then, another bus-load of live meat arrived.
Eddie and another blond youth met the latest batch of Selected teenagers and invited them to help themselves to soft drinks and to enjoy a final fuck or a nap on the freshly turned ground while the equipment was being inspected and re-fueled.
Eventually, though, engines roared into action again. A driver from that bus stripped off his belt and boots, climbed aboard the chopper, and fed himself to the rotors. Later, one of Fred Sanderburg's assistants did too, after passing his belt and boots to a competent-looking teenager from the last bus of the afternoon.
And about half-way through that last bus-load, an ambulance pulled up beside the chopper with two teenagers dying from an auto accident -- as road kill, they couldn't be sold as edible meat, so they volunteered to get it over with and be fed to the chopper. The next few naked teenagers in line helped Ben and Terry to lift the two injured youths onto the chopper and then lower them through the trap door and into the every-hungry rotors.
Supper -- under a full moon that rose as the sun set -- was Stefan -- carefully gutted and then roasted whole over a bed of glowing coals -- with farm-fresh vegetables on the side.
Four policemen from the Selection and Harvesting Patrol, including Terry's brother Ted and Ted's partner arrived. They stripped to their pistol belts and boots, carefully folded their green uniforms and left them in their cars, then joined the line of other naked men and teenagers waiting for slices of Stefan.
Ben, in line right behind Ted, saw Terry walk up behind Ted, tap him on the shoulder, and heard Terry ask, "Still checking up on me?"
"Hey, guy, I thought you'd be ground up and plowed under by now, so I figured it'd be okay for me and my partner to have supper here. Instead, what happened -- or rather, what didn't happen? Were you so full of that body- building stuff they couldn't even use you as fertilizer?" Ted asked, with a wave at the moonlit fields around them.
"We're on the staff now," Terry said, adjusting his green cap and then touching his green belt. "Me and Ben, and one of Ben's classmates, a kid named Karl. Just for a couple of weeks, though. After that . . .
"Anyway, Stefan -- the quiet Hatfield brother -- he's who we're eating for supper tonight." Terry described the day's events, with Ben and Karl adding to the story here and there as they got plates with slices of Stefan, then found seats, sat down, and ate.
Fred Sanderburg came by with a roasted prong and pair of balls, asking, "Are you the cops who nailed in the Hatfield Brothers?"
Ted nodded; his partner said, "Yes. We got the impression that they are -- they were quite a bit of a problem."
"Well, here's what's left of one of them."
"Uh -- sure." Ted glanced at his partner, who nodded. "Just doing what we're supposed to, but thanks." Ted divided Stefan's balls between himself and his partner, then gave Ben, Terry, and Karl each a third of Stefan's roasted prong.
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After supper, Ted paired up with Eddie, Ted's partner with one of Eddie's blond brothers. They found a spot on the freshly plowed ground and settled down for a fuck under the rising moon. Terry, Karl, and Ben coupled themselves into another three-way -- this time with Terry on the bottom, impaled on Karl's long, thick shaft, and Ben on top, fucking Karl's tight butt.